Falling From Grace
by Pirate's Wench
Summary: (Working Title) Sequel to "Saving Grace" - R for language and eventually situations - Please read author's note. Grace is kidnapped and Sands is reborn...
1. It Worked

**_Author's Note:_**_ So, I'm stuck on my Secret Window story – and have been for some time – and this idea will not leave my brain. This chapter is like a little…beta version of my sequel to "Saving Grace." (If you haven't read that one, then you may be totally lost here.) It's also a bit rough around the edge, but I will fine tune it. Yes, it takes a bit of a stretch of the imagination, but didn't "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" stretch it as well? Anyway, things about how it is that Sands is in the situation he is in in this chapter will come up later. There will be a series of flashbacks that will round everything out. Basically, I want to see whether or not this story will be well received, as I've gotten a lot of e-mails about writing a sequel. Actually, if this one is enjoyed by you, I already have it in mind that I would like to make this a trilogy. Please, please, leave me feedback so I know whether or not this is wanted. Thanks! (For some reason, half my punctuation was missing the first time I uploaded...all fixed now - I hope.)_

Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, formerly of the CIA, opened his eyes only to quickly shut them again. The light was too much for him to take.

Yes, the light.

After months of hounding from his former agency, he gave into an experimental procedure to restore his sight. He knew that undergoing the operation meant that he would more or less need to sell his recently redeemed soul, but anything he had to endure was worth her life.

Grace Milano had been missing for nearly two weeks. She and Sands were guests at a rather large black tie affair when it turned into a massive crime scene. Grace simply disappeared from Sands' side, supposedly kidnapped by, Lisandro Barillo. Yes, Barillo had a son. He was in another part of Mexico, his own cartel in operation, when his father and sister were killed. Taking Grace for revenge seemed possible.

Without hesitation, Sands decided that he couldn't simply let others search for her. She had changed his life and now she would change it again. She would be the reason why he would see again; the reason why he would kill again.

Once more, he opened his eyes, this time in a much slower fashion. Harold Rawlings, Sands' former boss, had the lights dimmed for him. Everything was blurred, but blurred was far better than the darkness he'd become accustomed to. Minutes passed before he said a word, and then…

"It…it worked," Sands said softly. The dim room gradually became more in focus.

"Sheldon? You can see?"

Still groggy from the pain medication he had been put on, his speech was slow. "Pretty much…it's a little fuzzy, but…yeah."

Harold moved closer to Sands. "Do you want the light a little brighter?"

"Yeah."

Harold turned up the light gradually over the next hour until Sands could finally handle the full brightness of it. Another hour and his vision was focused - sharp and vivid. He never thought it possible that he would open his eyes and see anything other than darkness.

"You do realize that you are staying here overnight, don't you? You're not going anywhere with guns blazing and…"

"Harry," Sands said, "you're not my boss anymore, remember?"

"You're no good to her if you strain yourself from the get go."

"Gracie…" Sands swallowed hard. "I'll fucking kill whoever has so much as breathed near her."

"I know you will."

Sands was still for a moment and looked scared - something that was never reflected in his face at any other time. "Did you bring it?" Harold nodded. "O.K." He inhaled deeply, then let the air out as if it were the last time. "I'm ready."

Harold handed Sands a photograph, flipped over so only the blank, white back and gray Kodak insignias could be seen. Sands held it for nearly five minutes before he turned it over. A blue sky…a large oak…his own face…and Grace. The woman who had helped him a few mere hours after being robbed of his sight, who quickly became his lover, then, more importantly, his love, was smiling at him from the photograph. He knew her body better than she did, but would have bet his life that he never would have known what she actually looked like. She was more than he ever could have wanted. It wasn't as though she looked like a supermodel; she wasn't flawless – no woman ever is without the help of an airbrush artist – it was more the fact that, for once, he truly knew someone before her appearance ever became a factor.

"She's fucking gorgeous," Sands said, a disbelieving smile on his face.

"Why do you think I was so curious as to why she was with you?" Harold asked, fondly reminiscing.

"Why would they take her? She didn't do a fucking thing to any of them? It was all me..."

"Precisely why they took her, I'm betting. If, indeed, it was Barillo's son who took her, what better way to get revenge on you than taking the only person you care about? You took his sister and gave his father to..."

"I know. I fucking know!" Sands shouted, his temper rising.

"Where are you going to start to look?" Harold asked. After all, nobody else had any luck whatsoever in finding any trace of Grace or Barillo.

"Mexico."

"Why do you think she's there?" Harold asked.

"Why not? Fucking home field advantage for him!" Sands voice lowered. "He didn't just take Grace."

Harold was puzzled. "Sheldon?"

Sands closed his eyes. He said, very simply"If she dies, I die."

Harold decided to take a chance with his words. "Even though you don't need her anymore?"

Sands looked absolutely appalled. "Because I can fucking see?"

"Not exactly...Sheldon, I know that you've become accustomed to your new life, but in getting the operation, you...gave that up."

Sands shook his head. "You think I'm going to keep my word to that bastard? I go, get Gracie, and then..."

"And then what, Sheldon? You signed a deal with the devil! You're going to be at his beck and call for anything he wants!"

"No! I'm not anyone's fucking monkey! I'll get her and we'll disappear if we have to!"

"You think things will really turn out that way?"

"I thought you were on my side!"

"I am!" Harold lowered his voice. "I am, but you need to understand that he'll do whatever he can to keep you under his thumb."

"Whatever he can?" Sands thought a moment, and his face screwed into a look of both anger and pleading. "Do you know something, Harold?"

Harold shrank back. "Nothing for sure - if I did, you know I'd tell you. I just have a hunch that he would go to any lengths necessary to get you to have that surgery...to get an assassin back."

"I'll fucking kill him...No, I'll fucking torture him to death and then..." Sands rose from the bed. "I'll pull out his..."

"Sheldon, you can't kill a government official as high up as he is without serious repercussions!" He cleared his throat and put his hand on Sands' shoulder. "Before you start to plan someone's death, why don't you just focus on getting back what matters in your _life_."

Sands let his eyes drift back down to the photo that let him see Grace for the first time. He had never cared about anyone but himself. He had no reason or want to love for so long – and he was beginning to wonder whether that emotion coursing through his veins was going to be a help or a hindrance. Either way, he was the only one would could save Grace.

His temper cooled slightly and he looked at Harold. "When I find her – and you and I both fucking know I will – I'm going to call you. I'm going to call you and tell you exactly where we are and you will go there."

Harold was confused. "Why?"

"Because if I have to die to save her life, I will, and I will not leave her down there." Desperation, yet another emotion that had never been evident in Agent Sands', washed over the man's face. "Swear to me that you'll show up."

Harold nodded, fully understanding that Sheldon Jeffrey Sands had changed; fully understanding that the once cocky loner who enjoyed nothing more than killing for the thrill of it, causing chaos where he could, and screwing any warm, attractive body he could find, had turned into someone that could do so much worse. "I swear." Harold looked at his watch. "You need to sleep."

"Oh, really, Mom?" Coddling. Grace was the only one allowed to do that. In fact, it had almost become a guilty pleasure to Sands - to be taken care of once in a while, that is. To know that he could be hurt, or sick, and that someone, in his words, "gave a fuck." Harold didn't have clearance for coddling. Sands leaned back against the pillows, knowing that tomorrow he'd be back in the sickening heat and filth of Mexico's underbelly. He shut his eyes, but one more thing left his lips before Harold passed through the threshold. "You know I like you, Harold…"

"Sure."

"…but you know damn well that if you had _anything_ to do with _any_ of this, I'll fucking kill you without a second thought."

Harold chuckled to himself. "I'd be worried if you didn't."


	2. Transitions

_Eleven months earlier…_

A black Nissan Exterra rolled down a street lined with attractive houses and manicured lawns. After a while, it slowed, pulling into the driveway of an ivory Italianate style house. To so many, this dwelling would be seen as a piece of art. To Grace, it was simply home.

"Well," Grace said, a nervous undertone in her voice, "we're here."

"Home sweet home, eh?" Sands asked.

She smiled. "Yeah."

Sands realized that the vehicle was still moving. "Long driveway?"

"It, um, circles around to a breezeway by the front door."

He raised an eyebrow, no longer feeling any discomfort from his surgery. "Oh, one of _those_."

"What's that mean?"

"Nothing, sugarbutt. I just forgot about the 'money thing' you have going for you."

Unsure of how to take his comment, Grace simply said, "Oh," and left it at that.

The driver of the SUV put the vehicle into park and opened both of the rear passenger doors. He then opened the back hatch and retrieved their luggage. Grace got out first, quickly circling around to help Sands. Taking his hand in hers, she led him to the front door. She reached into her purse for her key, but the door opened.

"Miss Grace!" Sands heard a woman's ecstatic come from a very close range.

"Hello, Hannah," Grace said sweetly, a smile on her face. "I've told you a hundred times to drop the 'Miss' thing."

Hannah looked sheepish for a moment. "Sorry." Her voice perked. "We've missed you terribly, we thought that your trip was going to be shorter."

"It's a long story," Grace said. She then turned the conversation to Sands. "Hannah, this is Jeffrey Sands, a…friend of mine."

_Friend? I'm a friend?_

"He'll be staying here…with me." Grace's face blushed, telling Hannah exactly what she meant by 'friend,' but leaving Sands in the dark – figuratively speaking. Hannah smiled, the lines in her face showing her age.

"Lovely to meet you, Mr. Sands." She extended her hand, but Sands didn't take it; she felt offended.

"Same here," he said.

"Hannah, Jeffery has recently lost his sight," Grace said, wishing that she didn't have to.

The woman felt immediate remorse for her earlier thoughts. "Oh, my…"

"It's no big deal," Sands said, sounding greatly annoyed.

"Of course it is, sir. We'll all make sure you're as comfortable as…"

"What's with all of this 'we' stuff?"

"The servants of the household, of course," Hannah said, thinking it absurd that he hadn't caught on.

"Servants, Grace?"

Grace mentally kicked herself. "Jeffrey, it's been a long week. Why don't I just show you to your room, hm?"

"Don't you mean _our_ room, Gracie?" he asked, deliberately emphasizing the word.

Grace forced herself to ignore the question and once again took his hand. "Come on." Gently tugging, she led him through the doorway and into the house. They passed through the foyer and headed up the rather large staircase.

"What's going on with you?" Sands asked, not worried about the volume of his voice.

"Shh, wait until we get upstairs, please," she begged.

_This is a big mistake. I should've known better… Mexico needed to be left behind._

They entered Grace's bedroom and Sands heard her sigh. "What the fuck, Grace?" His voice was a mixture of hurt and anger. "Servants? I'm a 'friend?' What else did you leave out?"

"Jeffrey, calm down. I'm sorry; I just didn't think everything through very clearly – which isn't exactly my fault! I did spend a few days hooked up to a morphine drip and…"

"Save it, Grace. The novelty's already warn off, hasn't it?"

"What?"

"You don't even want me here, do you? Just fucking admit it."

Now Grace's voice was the one that was hurt. "Where can you possibly be getting that idea from?"

"Where? You were just in the same place I was! I can't believe that you have fucking servants!"

"You're upset over _that_?"

"Who the hell has servants, Grace? Spoiled little rich girls, that's who."

"Jesus, Jeffery, you just got here and you're already judging my life?" She started to cry. He loved her – at least he said he did – and this was how he treated her now? She couldn't understand what she'd done that was so wrong.

"Don't cry, Gracie," Sands said, his voice slightly sympathetic.

"Don't yell at me and I won't have reason to," she said, sniffling.

Sands found her and put his hands on her shoulders. "You just were acting…like you were embarrassed of me or something and…"

"No, Jeffrey. God, no. I just forgot that things are a little complicated." She brushed his cheeks with her thumbs. "I didn't have to play a part in Mexico, I was free…but here…I'm expected to be a certain way and…"

He gently pushed her away. "…and I'm going to fuck everything up for you?"

She pulled him back to her. "No. I want you here more than anything in the world, I just have to make the transition…"

"Transition? Now I'm a fucking transition?" Grace could have sworn that his anger was evident in his artificial eyes.

"No! I didn't mean…" Grace rubbed her temples. Frustration getting the better of her, Grace left the room and stood at the top of the staircase. The next thing Sands heard was this: "Should he chose to do so, Jeffrey Sands will be living here indefinitely and we'll probably be engaged in very vocal sex, most likely in every room of the house. Anyone have a problem with that?" Three people stood at the bottom of the stairs, Hannah one of them. They were all silently shaking their heads in a "no" fashion, their eyes wide. Grace smiled. "Good." She returned to her room and found Sands on the bed.

"That was…impressive," Sands said, smiling.

"Better to let them know what they're in for right away, don't you think?" Grace shut the door and joined him. "Out of curiosity, since when do you care about what anyone else thinks of you?"

Sands pondered this for a moment. "Christ…I don't know, but I've really gotta stop it."


End file.
